


No More Secrets

by tunes84



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Angst, Friendship, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-05-09
Updated: 2012-05-09
Packaged: 2017-11-05 01:58:14
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 834
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/401205
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tunes84/pseuds/tunes84
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Arthur pretends not to notice.</p>
            </blockquote>





	No More Secrets

“Did you know, Gwen?” Arthur asks discreetly one day, not wanting to reveal the true nature of his question until he can be sure.  
  
“Know what, my lord?” she asks back as she quickly strips Morgana’s bed and throws the linens into her already overflowing wicker basket.  
  
Arthur opens the door for her and they begin to walk down the hall. “About Merlin. About-well,” he chooses his words carefully, “about his _special abilities_.”  
  
Gwen stops suddenly and Arthur’s throat tightens, afraid of what her answer might be. She turns to stare directly into his eyes. “You know you shouldn’t be so hard on him. He really tries, and it’s not exactly fair when you make jokes about his competence,” she says sternly. But then her eyes grow wide as if she’s just seen Arthur for the first time. “Not that it’s my place to say, sire, I apologize. I just meant-”   
  
Arthur holds his hand up and smiles weakly. “No, Guinevere, you’re right. Thank you.”  
  
She gives him a short courtsey, and practically runs down the hall and out of sight. Arthur’s mind eases slightly.  
  
  
*  
  
  
He had seen it before and chose to ignore it. Impossible thoughts, all of them, flitted in and out of his head without much cause for second guessing because it wasn’t true. It might have made sense, but it _wasn’t true_.  
  
  
*  
  
  
Merlin slams the door open with much greater force than the prince would ever think to give him credit for and stalks awkwardly over toward Arthur. “Sire-” he croaks in a very unnatural way. Clearing his throat, he continues. “I just-you mustn’t do this. Don’t do this, Arthur.”  
  
Arthur turns and rolls his eyes. It’s a plea he’s heard a thousand times in the past few years, so his retort rolls swiftly off his tongue. “Merlin, we’ve been through this. It’s my duty to Camelot. I will kill this beast, or die trying.”  
  
His manservant’s next comment is also expected.  
  
“Then I’m coming with you.”  
  
  
*  
  
  
He finds it a little funny how he always seems to defeat such terrible monsters, but never can remember how.  
  
  
*  
  
  
They end up in the Court Physician’s chambers after a grueling , yet successful witchhunt. Arthur assumed all had gone well until they reached the front Gate of Camelot where Merlin simply collapsed off his horse and onto the cold stone ground below.  
  
“A word, Gaius.” He’s not asking. The two slip off to the back of the room while Merlin squirms unconsciously, spread out on the old wooden table. “What’s wrong with him? He was perfectly fine an hour ago.”   
  
The old man’s face remains unchanged, but his eyes betray him when he slips a glance at his ward. Arthur can _see_ it.  
  
“I believe it to be mere exhaustion, sire. The boy just needs rest.” Gaius sounds convincing enough to Arthur, even when he knows there’s something more to it, so he lets it go.  
  
With a firm shake of his head, Arthur pretends to smile. “That’s good, then. Send for me when he awakens.”  
  
As he pulls the door closed behind him, the painfully whispered, “ _Arthur_ ” doesn’t escape his notice.  
  
  
*  
  
  
Truth be told, Arthur had convinced himself it was the light. It just didn’t make sense, even when it really did.  
  
  
*  
  
  
Shrieks of terror fill the courtyard as Arthur rolls behind an abandoned wagon, shield up and sword ready. Unfortunately the beast flies off with what it came for. Drops of blood and bits of armor trail behind as it takes its prize into the surrounding forest. Anger clouds his vision temporarily but Arthur soon regains his composure.  
  
“Merlin!” he cries out to his manservant, who is crouched below a piece of the fallen castle. The young man jumps up and scurries quickly over to his awaiting prince.  
  
“Arthur, I know what you’re thinking, and maybe it would be best-”   
  
Arthur doesn’t let him finish. “Ready the horses, Merlin. We ride within the hour.”  
  
Merlin’s shoulders drop heavily and his lips grow thinner. Arthur’s waiting for the insult he’s sure will follow, but it never comes.  
  
“Yes, sire.”  
  
  
*  
  
  
The more time he and Merlin spent together, the less confident he was in his ability to ignore the obvious.  
  
  
*  
  
  
Bright sunlight breaks over the horizon and dulls the color of the flames while Arthur struggles to keep his feet firmly on the ground. Time seems to stand still at that moment, that _crucial_ moment, when Arthur’s knees give out right before his mind, just in time to comprehend the word Merlin utters so fiercely under his breath.  
  
“ _Ablendan_!”   
  
The beast before them stops as suddenly as it had come and Arthur’s heart plummets into his stomach.  
  
“Merlin,” he whispers, the name dripping with the dread that slowly makes its way through his veins.  
  
“I won’t let you die, Arthur. Forgive me or not, I won’t let it happen.” The words are spoken with conviction.   
  
And as Arthur’s ever-loyal manservant drags him roughly through the thick wood, he can’t help but believe him.


End file.
